Not Over You
by likecominghome
Summary: Since the day she met Stiles, Lydia knew he was going to make her life difficult and despite the fact that they were no longer dating, it seemed he hadn't stopped.


Loud, repeated banging woke him from his sleep and he groaned as he lifted head from the pillow. Wincing slightly at the sharp pain shooting through his head, he blinked to adjust to the dim lighting of his apartment as he looked at the clock on his bedside table.

The red numbers read 7:37 and he briefly wondered why he had been woken so early in the morning until he realized it was actually evening. Wiping a stray line of drool from his cheek, he glanced longingly at the empty bottle of Jack Daniels lying next to the clock beside his bed before pushing himself to his elbows and sliding to the floor.

The knocking continued and he cursed under his breath as he padded towards the door, swinging it open to find his utterly unimpressed best friend on the other side.

Scott looked him up and down before sighing heavily, reaching up with one hand to run his fingers through his thick dark curls. "Why aren't you dressed yet? We're already running late."

Furrowing his brow, Stiles raked a hand through his hair. "What are you talking about?"

Rolling his eyes, Scott pushed his way into the apartment and surveyed the mess of crumpled up clothes and empty take out boxes littering the floor. Shaking his head, he turned back to Stiles, who had now shut the door and was blinking at him in bewilderment, genuinely confused as to his presence.

"Tonight is Lydia's graduation party," Scott said slowly, wary eyes trained on his best friend. "You've known about this for weeks."

"We're not dating anymore," Stiles scoffed, shrugging as he walked by and plopped down on the couch and patting down the cushions in search of the remote. "I don't have to go to that."

"Stiles," Scott sighed again, stepping in his best friend's line of vision and snatching the television remote from his hand before he got distracted. "You know how important this night is to her. Besides, you're not allowed to be upset with her."

Stiles glared at Scott, crossing his arms over his chest and puffing it out stubbornly. "She was the one who walked out."

Scott glared back pointedly. "And whose fault was that?"

Stiles meant to reply, but couldn't come up with a sufficient answer, so he rolled his eyes and lifted himself from the couch, heading to the bathroom to take a quick shower, the gesture a sign of his concession. He didn't need to look back to know Scott was smiling triumphantly.

Fifteen minutes later, he was tightening his tie as he slipped into the passenger seat of Scott's car and they sped towards the venue, the banquet hall of a hotel that her parents had rented out because so much of her extended family, as well as half the town, was invited.

"Do you think things would have worked out if I was different?" he mumbled as he sunk against the plush leather.

Scott didn't need a reference to know what he was talking about: the topic of Stiles and Lydia's breakup had been constantly discussed over the past few months.

"Different how?" Scott sighed, allowing his friend this indulgence. Under normal circumstances, he would have shut down this line of questioning immediately, but Stiles looked particularly glum this evening, judging by the faint scent of whiskey, so he decided to let it go.

Stiles shrugged. "Like maybe if I was sweeter, more affectionate. If I'd bought her flowers when it wasn't needed or jewelry or taken her shopping."

"But that's not you," Scott replied simply, his eyes focused on the road ahead. "She knew that."

"Did she?" Stiles asked, uncertain, because sometimes he wondered if she resented him for not being hopelessly romantic.

"Yes," Scott reassured him, "Besides, she never cared about any of those things. She just wanted she."

"And I couldn't even give her that," he mumbled as he stared out the window, watching the world outside whiz by.

He gulped when they arrived and there was a crowd of townspeople outside the hotel. News traveled fast in a town this size and although he might not personally know everyone, they were all acutely aware of the demise of his relationship with Lydia.

It wasn't the first time he'd been in public since the breakup, but it was the first time both of them had been in the same place and he was bound to get asked questions. Questions he'd rather not answer.

Like what went wrong.

But as he stepped out of the car, adjusting the jacket of his suit, he supposed the answer to that was simple.

Blinking to adjust to lack of light, he flashed them a friendly smile as he and Scott made their way towards the front door, Stiles imagining the questions going through their minds, some even said in what he imagined they thought was a soft whisper.

_Why'd he and Lydia break up?_

_Are he and Lydia getting back together?_

_Are they going to stay friends?_

_What went wrong?_

It was none of their business, so he shouldn't have cared, keeping his smile as wide and charming as possible as he walked up the steps. Once inside, he let out a sigh of relief and shot Scott a wary smile, but his heart dropped. Hearing her name repeated, even in whispers, was torture, each time it was spoken was like a dagger to the gut.

Regaining his composure, he adjusted his suit jacket around his shoulders and shoved his hands in his pockets as he and Scott walked towards the banquet hall in the back. The party was already in full swing, as they were actually rather late and his eyes quickly scanned the room for the guest of honor.

His gaze settled on her almost immediately. Even after seven months, he was drawn to her in an almost magnetic attraction. He could feel her presence in the room and it caused every one of his senses to be heightened in awareness.

She was standing near the small stage, talking animatedly to a throng of guests, who were hanging onto her every word. It wasn't really surprising, seeing as her voice had the same effect on him. Her hands were waving in the air because she had a habit of talking using gestures and she was grinning from ear to ear, causing her entire face to light with joy.

His heart sunk as he watched her because he couldn't remember a time when he ever made her smile like that: contently and peacefully.

Taking a deep breath, he glanced to the side to find Scott has gone off to talk to some other guests and started to walk towards her. He approached slowly and she saw him only when he was directly to her front, her smile faltering slightly as she wrapped up her conversation.

"Stiles," she greeted him when the crowd dispersed, raising her eyebrows in surprise. "You came."

He couldn't tell whether she was happy or upset that he was there, so he launched into an explanation. "You know I'll always support you, Lydia. Even if we're not together."

As she nodded, he thought she almost looked sad, but decided that couldn't be the case and stepped forward to pull her into a friendly hug. At least, that's what he hoped he was portraying, but as she wrapped her arms around his waist and leaned into his chest; his heart began to hurt even more. Her warmth surrounded him, her comforting scent making him feel instantly happy and he suddenly realized why he hadn't gotten a good night's sleep for the past seven months: because he can't sleep unless Lydia is there.

"I'm proud of you, Lydia," he said when she pulled away, much too soon for his liking, knowing how hard she had worked for her diploma and knowing that she must be extremely proud of her advanced degree achieved in an incredibly short amount of time.

She nodded in gratitude and parted her lips to say something, but her attention was drawn by her mother, who announced it was time for her to give a speech. Shooting Stiles an apologetic smile, she shrugged as she turned towards the stage, where she was joined by a man Stiles doesn't recognize.

The newcomer was tall, with blonde hair that was buzzed short and he smiled warmly as he stood beside her, looking at her fondly. Stiles's hand clenched into a fist as he watched the man place a hand in the small of her back before using the other one to help her onto the stage. She stretched her lips into a sweet smile before looking out at the crowd and clearing her throat.

Stiles didn't pay attention to her speech. He was too busy going through every possible explanation of the identity of this new man. And thinking meant he was actually visualizing possible scenarios of killing said man without anyone noticing.

She finished her speech thanking everyone for coming and recapping her academic journey and Stiles clapped politely as she stepped off the stage and was escorted to the dance floor by the same blonde man a few moments later. She slipped easily into dancing form, her arm around his neck and his around her waist as he held their other hands close to his chest.

They talked easily, it seemed, holding each other's gazes and laughing every so often. At first, Stiles could hardly see as he was fueled with jealousy, but then he heard her laughter and that familiar sinking feeling in the pit of his stomach returned.

Her head was thrown back, her eyes crinkled with joy and the smile on her face so bright that he swore it could power an entire planet. The knot in his stomach tightened and he suddenly wished he hadn't already finished that entire bottle of whiskey as he came to the sad realization that for the entire fourteen months that the two of them dated, he had never made her produce that noise.

All she ever did was fight, which was strange because she hardly ever fought when she were just friends, which was how her relationship started out. But it turned out that being a couple only made the two of she absolutely insane. Somewhere along the way, she lost track of why her friendship had worked so well in the first place.

Looking back, he realized it was probably all his fault. When her schoolwork started becoming intense, it was as though he couldn't handle the fact that he was no longer the center of her attention and he tried to distance himself from her. Of course she noticed, and eventually she couldn't take his enormous ego any longer and she left.

As he watched her smile happily, something strange happened: a weight lifted from his shoulders. Although he was sad and a little jealous, he was also slightly relieved because she looked happy. He didn't know what he would be doing in twenty years, but he did know that when all was said and done, he just wanted Lydia to be the happiest woman on the planet. And if that meant she found that happiness with another man, he'd just have to be ok with that.

Sighing, he walked quickly towards the dance floor, wrapping his fingers around her upper arm and pulling her to the side once she was detached from her partner. He realized it was unorthodox, but he needed to say what was on his mind before he lost the nerve.

"Stiles," she furrowed her brow in confusion, "What's going on?"

"I'm sorry," he blurted out without hesitation.

The furrow deepened, the corners of her lips turning downwards into a frown. "For what?"

"For everything," he admitted. Letting go of her arm, he shoved his hands in his pockets and softened his expression. "When we were together, I was kind of awful. And I didn't realize it then because I was too caught up in my own ego and what I wanted, but I regret a lot of the things I did and said. I hate that we fought all the time and I just want you to know that I finally understand why you left. You deserve so much better than me. And it seems like you've finally found someone who will treat you right."

She stared at him in utter bewilderment as he spoke, lips parted and gaping when he finished. Blinking a few times, she shook her head as though trying to retain the information. "Stiles, we haven't spoken in months. Where is all this coming from?"

He realized his apology was a little out of place seeing as the last time he'd seen her in public, in the cereal aisle at the supermarket, he'd gone out of his way to ignore her. "I know. It's just…I was watching you dance earlier and you looked so happy and it's been a while since I've seen you like that."

There was a pause and she didn't say anything, sensing that there was more he wanted to say.

"Does he make you happy?" he prodded, just needing that final confirmation so he could move on. "Does he make you laugh?"

She searched for words before staring at him directly, her eyes lit with fire the way that he thought was absolutely stunning. "He doesn't make me cry."

He accepted the response because he realized it was probably the best he was going to get and nodded, stepping forward to press a soft kiss to her cheek before backing away.

"I'm glad," he said quietly, "You deserve to be happy."

Before she could say anything else, he turned on his heel and walked towards the bar where his friends were gathered, no doubt watching their exchange from afar and whispering their thoughts under their breath, deciding now would be the perfect time to drown his sorrows in alcohol.

…

Stiles Stilinski was the bane of her existence.

From the moment she met him, she knew he was going to make her life difficult and despite the fact that they were no longer dating, he hadn't stopped.

The smug bastard told her he was happy for her and then just walked away. They dated for nearly a year and a half and he chose the previous night to be mature and understanding. How dare he.

It irked her to no end that he still has the ability to rile her up. She should be over it; she should have moved on, but instead she was seeing red as she thought about her conversation with Stiles rather than paying attention to anything Logan is saying.

Logan.

She sighed softly as she nodded, tuning out his words. She felt bad, really, because Logan was the epitome of a nice guy. He was sweet and honest and caring and considerate and pretty much the antithesis of everything Stiles was, but she was still not happy.

Still, she don't show it.

Logan came into her life unexpectedly and was a refreshing change from a frustrating relationship. He never let her go out of her mind waiting for him to call or allowed her to worry at all when it came to how he felt about her. They never disagreed because he agreed with everything she said and he swept her parents of their feet the very first time they met.

On paper, he was perfect. But she still couldn't shake the feeling that something was missing.

Or maybe that was the problem. She wasn't feeling anything.

Because for all his faults, that was the one thing Stiles did do: he made her feel.

Whether it was anger or frustration or pain or sadness or happiness or pure joy, it didn't matter. In fact, she often wondered if the reason their relationship was so difficult was because she'd had trouble processing so many emotions at the same time.

With Stiles, every day was like a roller coaster. One moment, they were laughing hysterically as they were cuddling on the couch and the next they were standing on opposite sides of the room screaming at each other. She was never quite sure how that transition happened, but it was always inevitable.

But despite the fact that they fought constantly, they couldn't stay away from each other. Their attraction was magnetic, pulling them together and making it impossible to be apart.

And as she tuned out Logan's words, she was suddenly struck with flashbacks of how things used to be. Of how Stiles would surprise her and challenge her. Of how he could make her feel like she was flying one minute and as though she'd had her heart ripped out the next.

It was insane, the way their relationship worked, but as she mindlessly nodded along to Logan's speech, she realized that it was real. She and Stiles were never broken. He might have been complicated and frustrating, but he set her soul on fire; a feeling that Logan couldn't recreate.

So when Logan said, "I think we should break up," her interest was finally piqued.

Eyes wide in surprise, she looked at him curiously, pausing for a moment before realizing he was waiting for her to have some sort of reaction. The only trouble was, she don't feel enough to have a response.

Not anger, not sadness, not regret, not even happiness or relief. Nothing. She was empty and she wondered if he could tell that the smile her lips have been stretched into was contrived the whole time.

She nodded, trying to act sad, but in reality she was thinking that there was someone else she needed to see. So she hugged him goodbye to make the split amicable, her lips forced downward into a frown until he walked out the door of the café where he'd asked her to meet for coffee.

Once he was gone, she pulled her phone from her purse and called Stiles's best friend.

"Scott, I need to know where he is," she said as soon as he picked up.

"Why?" Scott asked in confusion, not needing to ask who she was talking about. "Is everything alright?"

"Yes," she insisted, knowing now wasn't the time for discussion, "Now tell me where he is."

Sighing, Scott gave her the necessary information and she hurried out of the café. Twenty minutes later, she was showing her identification to the security guard at the police station and she scurried inside, weaving her way towards the back room where his desk was, piled high with files and papers.

He was sitting behind his desk, brow furrowed as he pored over a case file atop the metal surface.

She ignored the bewildered expressions on the faces of the other officers as she marched up to him, not exactly knowing what to say, so she went with the first words she could think of.

"You're an asshole, you know that?"

He blinked in confusion, frowning slightly as his head raised. "Lydia? What the hell are you doing here?"

She could already feel her blood boiling and her eyes flashing and despite the fact that she knew they were about to scream at each other, she couldn't help but feel relieved. It seemed she was capable of emotion after all, but only when she was with Stiles.

For the first time in a long time, she felt alive, a feeling she'd only felt two other times the previous night: when Stiles had hugged her and kissed her goodbye. It was strange how his touch could awaken her senses and she found it sad that she couldn't remember the last time Logan elicited an emotion from her that wasn't complete indifference.

Bristling with anger, she stood up straighter. "Why would you do that? Why would you tell me that you're sorry and you're happy for me? How could you be so selfish?"

His lips parted in bewilderment and he glanced over to where his father was watching their interaction from the window of his nearby office, completely enthralled. Shooting his dad a glare, Stiles returned his attention to her, still confused by her earlier questions. "What are you talking about? Are you saying that you would rather I be upset?"

She wasn't actually sure what she wanted. She hadn't thought past bursting in to see him and she now realized she had no idea why she was even there.

It was that magnetic attraction again; a few minutes of thinking about him and she'd ended up confronting him for no reason whatsoever.

"No," she sighed heavily, rolling her eyes and feeling her heart rake spike as a result of being near him. "You're so frustrating."

"I'm frustrating?" he gaped, pushing the file away and standing to continue her argument. "You're the one who barged in here and started yelling at me."

"Maybe I wouldn't have to yell if you actually listened to me for once," she snapped back.

"What exactly am I supposed to be getting from this conversation?" he asked, taking a step around the desk towards her, apparently reaching his limit of tolerance.

"That I'm really fucking in love with you."

There was silence and she stared at him defiantly, waiting for him to react. He was gazing at her wide eyed, his lips parting and closing like a fish until he finally spoke.

"Lydia, you were the one that left."

"Because you're so wrong for me!" she blurted out in response.

He shrugged, not knowing how to respond and she knew he agreed, but she wished he didn't.

"But then again," she said softly, twisting her fingers together. "Maybe that's what makes us so perfect for each other."

Once again, he said nothing, just staring at her in confusion, so she took a deep breath and continued.

"You're insane, Stiles. You're wild and crazy and irritating and arrogant and egocentric and oblivious and complicated and-"

"Gee, Lyd, you're really stroking my ego here," he cut in, shooting her a glare.

"You're all of those things, Stiles," she sighed, knowing he couldn't deny it, "But despite everything, you make me better. You challenge me and make me strive for more. And yes, we argue a lot and half the time I want to kill you, but I like who I am with you. It's because of you that I've learnt to be strong and fearless and I need that. I need you."

"You never lost me," he whispered, taking another step closer. "I know I really messed up when we were dating and there's so many things I wish I could have done differently, but all I've ever wanted is to make you happy."

"You do," she smiled softly, "You also make me angry and sad and irritated beyond belief, but I couldn't ask for anything better."

He furrowed his brow in confusion, tilting his head to the side. "I don't understand. Those don't sound like good things."

"But they are," she smiled softly. "You make me feel, Stiles. And isn't that the point of living? To feel every emotion possible and absorb and appreciate all of them?"

"What about the guy? The one you were with yesterday?" he asked hesitantly, despite the fact that he stepped forward one more time, leaving almost no gap between them.

Her heart was racing as it always did in his presence and she was tingling to touch him, but she resisted, curling and uncurling her fingers to keep from doing so. "We broke up."

"I'm sorry. Are you alright?" he asked, though his tone isn't at all apologetic and internally he was squealing with joy.

"I would be if you'd shut up and kiss me," she snapped back, a little irritated at the lack of physical contact that had occurred thus far.

He chuckled lowly, leaning down and brushing his lips lightly over hers as he spoke. "Have I ever told you that you're a pain in the ass?"

She scrunched her nose, causing it to hit his gently. "It's really too bad you're stuck with me, then."

Rather than reply, he finally pressed their lips together and as she melted into his chest and tangled her fingers into his hair she remembered why she fell in love with him in the first time. It was because when things were good, it was like she was flying. And although the lows were awful, she can't help but feel that they only made the relationship that much better, that much stronger, that much more worth it.

Because the constant turmoil only made them work for it more, made them try harder to be better for each other. So she smiled against his mouth as every nerve end in her body lit on fire and she decided to give in and enjoy the ride.


End file.
